Love & ThatDWord
by LetTheMusicTakeControl
Summary: Not my story, my bestie friend wrote it :D Enjoy! Rated T just to be safe. Shane's POV, May change later on . Shane/OC. & the "D-word"? Deathhh, DUN DUN DUNNN! Lol. Might be a multi-chapter.


**Okayyyyyy. :D So I did NOT write this story. This was written by my uh-may-zing best friend, Paul. Yes, he's a guy, and yes, he loves hurting the characters I love. Lol.**

**Enjoy it! **

**Disclaimer: I own _nothing. _Believe me. 'Nuff said. :)**

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"_They say that we're just too young. _

_Too young to understand._

_But I do understand._

_I understand._

_I really do._

_I understand that I love her._

_I understand that nothing can tear us apart._

_Nothing in this entire world can change our minds_."

Those were my exact thoughts while I was lying on my deathbed. _Literally._

I was going to die, and there was no one who could stop it.

Not even those stupid doctors who told me to trust them.

I did trust them.

I really did.

Until all this bullshit caused me to end up here.

In this white-walled room.

I feel so…claustrophobic.

I remember the last time we talked as if it were yesterday.

She looked at me with those innocent eyes. The look I loved so much. I decided to tell her what I've been hiding back my entire life from her. I shook my head as she looked at me curiously. My knee must have been bouncing 10 miles a minute by now. I was so nervous. But why should I have been nervous? If she really was my best friend, and if she really did truly love me, she wouldn't just leave me, would she? No, she wouldn't. How silly of me to even think that way! I watched her as she looked out the window of the small diner we were in. We'd come here anytime we could. Just to talk, hang out, you name it. The room was decorated for Christmas. Christmas was only a week away. I had my plans for the Christmas present I was going to give her. Us, both at eighteen, being happily together; forever. It brought a smile to my face every time I thought about it … Then I think about my situation, and that smile goes away quickly. That ring in my pocket, which I carry with me everyday, -for what reason, I don't know- feels heavier and weighs me down. "Vanessa," I spoke softly, getting her attention, but not to knock her out of her thoughts. She looked back at me from the window, raising her eyebrows slightly. "Yes?" she answered with a soft smile. It made my heart melt; no matter how lovey-dovey that sounded, I meant it. But as soon as the sentence I thought about spitting out clouded my mind, my smile that mirrored hers faded. She tilted her head to the side as if to get a good look at me. As if it were the last time she'd see me. Boy, what a coincidence. "I have to," I paused, sucking in my breath before I continued. "tell you something…" I mumbled, locking my eyes onto the table. "What's the matter?" she asked, sounding worried. It was quiet for a few minutes. The both of us waiting for me to talk. When I couldn't stand the silence anymore, I finally broke; tears welling up in my eyes. I guess I'll never know why whenever she saw tears in my eyes, she'd start to cry too. "I've been keeping something, very important, from you," I slowly looked up from the table to meet her gaze. "and I wish I told you from the start," I let out a quiet sigh and continued. "I have 6 days to live." My tears were pouring down faster than hers. I only saw a couple tears slowly roll down her cheeks. I felt like a fool. Good thing was that we were literally the only two people in there. Everyone else was either at home, too cold to go outside, or at work. After a few long seconds, I piped up, "Say something?" She opened her phone, staring at the screen for a while and looked back at me. "Six days? Christmas Eve?" It wasn't really a question; but her and I both knew what she meant. I shrugged slightly. "I just didn't want to scare you." I said quietly. Staring into her eyes, I reached over the table and closed her phone shut, putting it aside on the table, and grabbed her hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm, and oh-so soft. I loved that feeling. It'll probably be one of the many things I'll miss most. But the number one thing I'll truly miss would be her kisses. Soft and sweet. Will I even have the feeling of missing something? I let these thoughts run through my mind over, and over again and finally said, "I love you, Vanessa." I expected at least a response that was similar to that, but all she did was get up, grab her phone, and walk out the diner's doors wordlessly. I'll probably never forget the way I felt at that very moment. There are no words in the world to describe the butterfly feelings she gives me when she's around me, nor the feelings I felt as I watched her walk out.

Now, here I am, Christmas Eve, sitting on this stupid (horrid-smelling) hospital bed, staring at the ceiling and half-listening to my brother as he goes on and on about something he read in the bible. Something about God needing another Angel. Why create life, when that life will get taken away; so soon? … I tore my eyes away from the ceiling for the first time in 5 days and looked at my brother, Nate, who was still talking and looking at me as if I were paying attention for the last 25 minutes. There was a knock at the door and that's what made Nate finally stop his Bible Speech. Thank GOD.

"Come in," I said, looking at the door. Dr. Butt-wipe poked his head in and smiled slightly. That's not his real name. It's just something Nate and I like to call him. I just forget how to pronounce his name. It's something that starts with but, though. Hence; BUTT-wipe. Smart, right?

"Hello, Shane. How're you feeling?" I was crabbier than usual. Not that I was really all that crabby daily. I glared at the television.

"I'm going to die today, and the suckiest thing is that I don't know WHEN, and you're going to ask me how I'm feeling? Well, Dr. Butt---" Nate cut me off before I could use Dr. Butt-wipe's nickname.

"He's feeling a bit out of place. A few mood-swings here and there, though."

I continued to glare at the television. How could I not be in a bad mood if I couldn't even see my girlfriend before I died? … Why does it matter to me anymore? She hates me for something my stupid parents gave to me. And that's this stupid disease that has me struggling for every breath I take. It wasn't even my fault. I hate my parents. I never liked them. I never will. They only gave me all that attention when I was younger because they knew god-damned well that I would die; and soon. So much anger built up inside me that I felt the hot tears streaming down my face. Nate glanced at me and stood up, walking Dr. Butt-wipe out and shutting the door behind them. I listened as their footsteps slowly faded until I heard nothing. I slumped my shoulders and stared at the foot of my bed for what seemed like forever. I sighed as I wiped the last of my tears. Hopefully, today will be the last day I'll have to look like a mess whenever I let my tears slip, even the slightest. The only image that has replayed in my head was the last time I saw Vanessa. And that image was her walking out the doors of that diner. Only just 5 and a half days ago, she smiled at me. We hung out after work everyday. And spent weekends all day at the beach. But those memories were in black and white to me. As if she went back in time and blurred them, just so I couldn't see them clearly. But I still remember the things we said.

I counted up all the times she's ever told me she loved me. From March 27th, 2004 until December 20th, 2009. She's told me 1,753 times that she loved me. I sighed and stared out the window of the hospital room. I heard a knock at my door. I didn't tear my eyes away from the window and mumbled, "Come in," and let out a sigh.

It was quiet, so I didn't know if the person came in or not. I turned my head slowly towards the door and there she was, standing right next to my bed. "Vuh-ness-suh," I spoke slowly as if I were a 5-year-old, trying so hard to pronounce her name right. She wasn't looking at me. She was looking at all the wires hooked up to me which connected to a machine on the other side of my bed. Her bangs fell over her eyes so I couldn't tell if she was crying or not. It was quiet, so I broke the silence.

"You're actually…here." I said slowly. She nodded silently. More silence. Then she finally broke it.

"How long?" she asked quietly. I didn't know the answer to that question.

"I'm not sure," I slowly looked away from her for a few seconds, but then looked back. "But I hope soon." Her hand moved swiftly over her face, moving her bangs away from her eyes, and her eyes were blood-shot red as if she were crying for the past three days.

"Why would you say that?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"It's a lot less painful than going every second of the day, not knowing when I'll---" I looked down.

"Oh." was all she said. Tears formed in my eyes as I kept repeating the words I've repeated to myself many times this morning. _"She doesn't care. She doesn't care. She doesn't fucking care. … Why the _**fuck **_doesn't she care?" _I've told myself this so many times today that I started to actually believe it … And cracked.

I glared at her.

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**So that's just chappy one. Aren't ya'll excited to read morree? :D Lol. What will happen next? DUN DUN DUNNNNN! **

**Lol.**

**Paul && I would like to thank ya'll for reading!**

**Review, please? :) **

**It would bring a smile to The uh-MAY-zing author's beautiful faceee. :D**

**Haha!!!  
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